


Evil Sexily Spangles, Apparently

by rainbowstrlght



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/F, Mirror Universe, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-22
Updated: 2010-07-22
Packaged: 2017-10-13 08:56:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/135472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowstrlght/pseuds/rainbowstrlght
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Uhura takes a detour to her quarters before meeting her team in sickbay, she has an unexpected visitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evil Sexily Spangles, Apparently

**Author's Note:**

> **Note:** My first PWP! ♥ As a result, let's pretend there was a miraculous pocket of time for this to happen, okay?

In all honesty, she should’ve expected this. After all, what does a girl in this get-up expect on a ship full of vultures? Men pawing at her, certainly, as she walks alone in the corridors, and tries not to misstep in this new persona. But, but–

Okay, was she supposed to expect that _the women_ would gawk at her, too?

From what Nyota can tell, women are subordinates and second-class citizens in this fucked-up universe. Men can grab whenever they please, and no one defends the helpless as they selfishly take whatever they want. But the women _do_ take full advantage of that - encourage it, even. The shadowed corners near a turbolift demonstrate _that_ all too well.

But for some reason, it’s still incredibly surprising when Nyota walks into the perverted facsimile of her quarters, and sees the exotic brunette; a pleasing female form sprawled out on full display over Nyota’s usually-orange, but newly-shimmery bedspread – because evil _spangles_ in this universe, apparently.

“I heard you really laid one on him, this time.” A tanned calf smoothly slides up against another, as the woman draws up a knee. “When will Sulu ever learn.”

Nyota gulps just inside the entrance, but answers, “Indeed.”

The woman is in a similar get-up as herself, but in Science blues – the gold sash tied barely over the slim and angular hip, the top hardly supportive and suggestive. The skirt is perhaps a bit shorter – or maybe the slight hint of white panties is an intended effect. Whichever, it is _almost_ reassuring – that all women in this mirror branch of Starfleet are on display; and she isn’t exactly _special_.

But on the other hand? Nyota isn’t dumb. Noticing that she is one of the few females on the bridge, and having her quarters among the executive personal suites? That still means something, regardless of what reality you are in.

So maybe after hearing about the Captain’s brush with Ensign Chekov, this mysterious, dark-haired woman - now turned on her side, with fingers spread delicately over an exposed, curved thigh – should give her some pause.

A thumb brushes under the hem of the blue skirt, and Nyota knows it’s the _wrong_ kind of pause.

She looks from the brunette to the bathroom, and tries to think quickly – what the hell is she even here for, anyway? “I forgot something, I’ll just be a moment – “

“But you’re not on the scheduled roster for the evening, _Lieutenant_.” The last is pronounced with the pout of a lip, and Nyota looks away quickly.

Okay, so she might have a thing for brunettes. While the Captain and Christine are beautiful blondes, and a blue gaze from the doctor could be breath-taking, there’s something about –

The woman’s dark eyes turn Nyota’s way, and drawl lazily over the contours of her body. Nyota can feel the flush brushing throughout, as the eyes slide down the slope of the neck, to the swelling bosom, and then skate to rest at her hips.

Nyota gulps. She just has a _thing_ for brunettes.

“Um,” she can feel liquid heat pooling, and she can’t have that - _she can’t_. “I was thinking of going to – “

The woman lifts her legs to turn, and sit over the edge of the bed; arms spread beside her, dipping the top half of her body. The gaze is sulking, but the coral lips hint at a game. The voice is almost childish. “You’re going to leave me here, all alone?”

Well, if it were any _other_ universe – one where they weren’t all trying to make it home in the knick of time, or where the people didn’t make sport of killing each other – this wouldn’t be a question at all.

The lips go to full smirk, as Nyota catches herself staring at ample cleavage.

There’s a knowing look, as the woman says airily, “I have a better idea.”

Nyota wonders if it has anything to do with the slight bounce of breasts, as the brunette stands up from the bed – or the gaze that’s turned to hungry and predatory, as she stalks forward; not unlike a lion with a gazelle.

As if Nyota has _ever_ been a gazelle.

“Um, I – I really have to get – “ Nyota feels the frame of the door jab at her hip, as the woman steps into her space. With the sharing of air that hints of jasmine, words seem to disappear from Nyota’s head – so much for being a _linguist_.

The lips form into an _O_ for, “No.”

Nyota raises her brows in surprise. “No?”

The woman enunciates slowly, “ _No_.” And it would be demeaning, except Nyota likes the way those lips look - especially when they dip down, and brush along the curve of her jaw; with breath ghosting her inner ear.

There’s a small lick, before the cool air whispers, “I want to play.”

Nyota blinks. “Play what –“

A punch to the stomach knocks the air out of her, as strong arms suddenly throw her away from the door. Nyota finds herself stumbling, fingertips brushing the carpet, as another shove comes from behind.

She falls flat to the ground, but rolls in time to avoid a kick.

There’s a laugh, then, “Come on Nyota, you can do better than – “

A hard kick of the boot thumps against a thigh, and the brunette stumbles sideways. Nyota’s hand slaps, and gropes the flesh of a hip, as she tugs a fistful of blue uniform downward; while grabbing an ankle and tripping the petite aggressor.

Nyota moves quickly and straddles the waist, while pinning the arms overhead. The woman bucks her hips, straining her arms and back, as both pant from the sudden exertion.

“Who - the hell - are _you_?” The woman bucks again, and Nyota harshly bounces; pressing down her hips with all her weight. “I don’t have time for this, why the hell would you – “

And the question is cut off, as a hasty brush of lips is more a knock of teeth. But another surge upwards catches a bottom lip, and is sucked between the soft and slick mouth; the teeth trapping and biting now-swollen flesh.

With a quick swipe of the tongue, the head pulls back, and Nyota feels her eyes cross. It’s only when an arm jerks too quickly to be set free, that she snaps back to attention, and demands, “Just answer me - who are you?”

The brunette smirks. “Are we playing _this_?” She wiggles beneath, her breasts arching closer. “Am I the whore Marlena from Rigel IV, or am I the reluctant slave that you caught from the planet below?”

Hips lift and rub slowly, and Nyota can’t help the hitched breath. Not when the smile is wicked, and – _fuck_ – she hasn’t had a soft body beneath her for _so damn long_.

That’s maybe why it takes her a second to ask, “You’re Marlena?”

“I’m whoever you want.” And the mouth now surges up to clasp on the outline of a nipple; the lips briefly latching with delicious friction of uniform, then letting go to trace with the tip of the tongue.

Nyota can’t arch away, and the lack of pressure on limbs makes several things happen at once. One being a leg lifting, and slipping snugly between dark thighs. The other for an arm to be set free, and a hand to push the small of her back; to smack body against heaving body.

Words of protest leave Nyota’s head, as the warm mouth claims hers again, and a tongue forcefully snakes between lips. As it wraps around and possesses the inside of her mouth, Nyota barely knows what is being forced, and what isn’t – as she catches herself grinding down on the supple and fleshy thigh; the building heat narrowing her focus.

She tries to pull back again, but the cool air on a wet patch of her panties conjures a surprised gasp.

“We can’t – “ and a knee is purposefully rubbing, making her ride it, _want it_ – and a hand cupping a breast isn’t helping the protests Nyota needs to make.

Marlena huffs a laugh, as a nipple is taken between thumb and forefinger, and makes Nyota harshly inhale. “You really got somewhere better to be?”

Nyota quickly nods, but a moan escapes as another rogue hand thumbs the crease between thigh and hip. “I can’t, I really – “

The coral lips purse together, and the brow furrows solemnly. “Well then, we’ll just have to hurry this up, won’t we?”

Nyota has no idea what the hell _that_ means, except that she feels so damn close already, yet not close enough – the angle not quite right, but teasing and building and maddening.

Two hands grab her ass cheeks, and pull forward. Nyota puts an arm out, as she gives a _huh?_ of surprise.

“ _Up_ ,” says a frustrated voice, and it suddenly dawns on her.

Nyota lifts her hips, and moves up on the body; where Marlena’s quick fingers are already sliding down the wet fabric over her slit. The rubbing almost way-lays her; the fabric over her clit dulling, yet still welcome over swollen flesh. It’s only when Marlena pushes her onward again, that Nyota looks down to see herself angled directly over Marlena’s face.

As if the sight weren’t erotic enough, she feels a tongue press against her, and she keens.

Nyota balances with arms outstretched, trying to angle her hips for more pressure, more tongue, more rubbing – _more_ – and she can’t help the slight bounce that makes Marlena grip her hips. She just wants that mouth on her, sucking and licking the wetness that she can smell pooling; the heat building at her groin as Marlena trails lips, and dips her tongue into her slit.

She is embarrassingly panting, and without cognizance the words bubble out, “Take them off, _take them off_.” The cotton panties now a hindrance to being fucked properly, hopefully by that sinful tongue.

But she only feels a hand leaving her hip, to tug at the elastic hem, and pull them to the side. It stretches tight at the bikini line; but Nyota doesn’t give a damn as the tongue slicks a patch of hair, and travels inward.

She moans loudly and rocks forward, as the wet tip caresses upwards, and finally stops at her clit. It circles slowly, slowly, _slowly_ – until lips purse and _suck_.

“ _Oh_ my God,” Nyota pounds a fist on the floor. “Fuck, do that – “

But the tongue laves around it again; dipping and circling and alternating between quick flicks, and a broad stroke of the tongue. The velvet pressure is divine; stoking the fire lighting on every nerve ending, curling her toes; her thighs quivering with building expectation. Watching from above, she sees a bead of sweat drop from a curve of her stomach, and onto the broad forehead; streaking to a hairline. It is possibly more sexy than seeing the coral mouth disappear beneath the fanning of her red skirt.

Nyota can feel the white light in her third eye, starting to blind and narrow the world to the tip of a tongue. She can hear someone moaning loudly, and she barely realizes her mouth is open wide.

When she feels fingers pushing inward, and lips around her clit, she grinds down, and feels the rushing explosion; the pulsing of her muscles in wave after wave, as fingers press inside and mercilessly drain her.

Maybe that’s why it takes a minute for Nyota to regain awareness, and realize her ass is sticking in the air, while her nose is breathing in the carpet.

Hands push on a hip, and she rolls over onto her back. Nyota blinks, and sees Marlena grinning down at her; her lips and chin still glistening.

She raises an eyebrow. “You really have somewhere to be?”

Nyota doesn’t fucking remember anymore, except – _shit_ , she does.

Her eyes focus on Marlena’s erect nipples, and without thinking, reaches up to cup a breast through blue uniform. Her thumb brushes over the hardness, and Marlena bites her lip.

She pushes the hand away. “ _Later_.”

Damn her if there isn’t a later – especially since Nyota knows she’s so late, they’re probably stuck in this evil universe.

Marlena pushes herself up, and then offers a hand. Nyota takes it, and once she stands, tries to calm her breathing. Marlena is barely mussed, but Nyota _herself_ is probably a mess. Her hands reach down to adjust the gold, spangly sash, and to smooth the front and back of her skirt – yeah, hers is _definitely_ longer.

Marlena is standing before her with a quirked lip, and Nyota notices the hemline and sighs.

But Marlena steps forward for a final kiss – a brief stroke of tongue, and a quick nip to the bottom lip – before she pushes Nyota to the door. “It works for you. Get out of here.”

Nyota stares for a moment – pretty sure that isn’t true – before she forces herself to turn, and stumble out the door. When she’s in the hallway, her professionalism slowly seeps back into her: She must be in sickbay with her team members.

She brushes past the knowing smirks of the officers in the hall, and charges into a turbolift.

***

 

Life is thankfully boring, when the universe isn’t entirely evil. Especially when Nyota doesn’t have to pretend that wanting to blow up an entire planet’s surface is normal, or that she ever would’ve dated Sulu, anyway. The lack of death threats? That is nice, too. This is a universe she could graciously get used to.

Except, _well_ …

Oh, who is she kidding - there are _plenty_ of fish in the sea. Perhaps none as beautiful as Marlena, but there is a trade-off for evil: No spangly bedspreads, so no beautiful and sudden brunettes spread out on them.

 _Trade-offs_. She would get used to it; like how she got used to a turbolift door opening a dozen times an hour – she would eventually learn to cope, and maybe forget about its existence.

“Captain Kirk.”

Something about the voice makes Nyota turn around. She watches as the dark-haired officer makes her way to the center of the bridge; sweetly reserved, but with an intricate beehive belying any dullness.

The Captain seems to pause in recognition, just as she had; so there is no doubt about it.

Kirk fumbles a moment. “Lieutenant, er – Lieutenant?”

The small smile is uncannily familiar. “Marlena Moreau. I was just assigned last week.”

Captain Kirk signs off on a PADD hastily, but Nyota can’t be bothered to wonder why. Her eyes follow the back of the blue uniform to a corner of the bridge, as her mind races in a million directions; and barely registers the surrounding conversation.

“No, no - we haven't met before, exactly. She just seemed a nice, likable girl. I think we could become friends… It's possible.”

As Nyota watches James Kirk stride towards the beautiful brunette, she smiles.

Marlena and herself? They could become _friends_ , indeed.


End file.
